


Road Trip

by ZaliaChimera



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Comfort, Driving, M/M, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, Road Trips, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-30
Updated: 2016-09-30
Packaged: 2018-08-18 14:53:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8165807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZaliaChimera/pseuds/ZaliaChimera
Summary: Going on holiday is supposed to be relaxing. Going on holiday with the Blues could very well be fatal.





	

“This is going to be the best. Road trip. Ever!!!”

Church thunks his head forward against the steering wheel. “Just shoot me,” he mutters. “Right now.”

Wash watches as Caboose bounds his way towards the service station. He winces when a white SUV swerves to miss him, causing the driver to start screaming through the window. Caboose keeps walking, oblivious, or at least very very good at ignoring things. “You invited him.”

Church turns his head and glares blearily at him. Wash shrugs. He’s immune to Church’s glares by now. “Well, you did.”

“He looked at me, Wash. What was I supposed to do? You can’t expect me to stand up to that sort of pressure!” 

“You could have told him to get the train and meet us at the ferry. You know, like everybody else.”

“St. Pancras, Wash,” Church replies, and his scorn is almost a physical thing. “You want to let Caboose loose in London.”

He winces. Okay, yeah, Church has a point there. It isn’t that Caboose can’t take care of himself, it’s just that he has an uncanny knack of being in places when chaos erupts. 

“See!” Church says. He sits suddenly upright and waves a finger in Wash’s direction. “You know I’m right.”

“Makes a change,” Wash says, giving a sharp grin as he leans back in his seat.

The way Church sputters indignantly is as familiar as breathing. Wash props his hand behind his head and closes his eyes. The sun is already bright even this early in the morning and Wash wishes that he’d brought his sunglasses. He can hear Church shifting impatiently in the driver’s seat, itchy motion, followed by the tap of rhythmic tapping of fingers against the dashboard. It gets slowly faster and louder until finally Wash sits up and rests a hand over Church’s. Church stops dead and stares at him for a long moment, eyes wide.

“You want me to drive?” Wash asks. He leans forward a bit, and curls his fingers around Church’s hand.

Church’s tongue flicks out over his lips, but slowly that distant look slips from his gaze. He shakes his head and gives a derisive snort. “Fuck no. I want to actually survive the journey. You drive like a fucking maniac.”

“Hey!” 

“You were sent to road rage classes, Wash.”

He hates that Church is right. “Not my fault everyone else drives like a fucking ninety year old,” he spits, mortification burning his tongue.

“No Wash, they drive like normal fucking people. It’s you who drives like you’re still in a war zone.”

It’s a splash of cold water. He tries to pull away, but Church keeps hold of his hand, thumb smoothing against the pulse point in his wrist. It’s frustratingly soothing and right now he hates that Church knows what to do.

“How long have we got left?” Church asks after a few minutes have passed, and Wash’s ire has diminished. He can hold grudges like no-one else, but he quickly learnt that if he tried to do that with Church, he’d need to start a spreadsheet. 

“Four hours,” Wash replies after checking the route on his phone. “Assuming we don’t hit traffic.”

Church’s head hits the headrest with an audible thunk. “Fuck.” 

“You could nap for a while,” Wash points out. “We left early enough and you know Grif is going to roll up just before they close boarding anyway.”

“I’m fine,” Church replies, still staring up at the roof of the car.

“You look like hell and you tossed and turned all night,”

Church turns his bloodshot gaze towards him. He gives Wash a flat look. “And you know that how?”

Wash suddenly finds the view across the car park incredibly interesting. Lots of families, a few vans, business-people in suits, and one old fashioned open-top convertible. He can feel the tiredness pricking at the backs of his eyes, and the sun doesn’t help any, but it’s manageable. It hadn’t even been a bad nightmare, not by his standards anyway. Nowhere near as bad as some that he’s had.

A hand slides beneath his shirt to rest against the small of his back, warm and calloused. “You should have woken me.”

Wash huffs a sigh. “You needed the sleep. You’re driving. I can sleep in the car.”

“That isn’t the point, dumbass,” Church says, and Wash can easily imagine the roll of his eyes. “We have an agreement. You don’t deal with this shit alone.”

“Yeah well, sometimes I am alone so I have to be a goddam adult and deal with a stupid nightmare on my own.” Christ, he was a grown man. He shouldn’t be spending half the night awake because he had a bad dream. 

He hasn’t realised how tightly his hand is hands are clenched in his lap until Church’s hand is next to them, resting on his thigh. He stubbornly doesn’t look up at him, but it’s reassuring all the same.

“You,” Church begins, “are a fucking idiot.”

Wash has to look at him after that, a flat, narrow-eyed glare. “What?”

Church shrugs helplessly. “I don’t make the rules. You’re being a fucking martyr, when you could just have gone ‘hey Church, my amazingly sexy and smart boyfriend, wake up so you can talk me through a raging nightmare and convince me that reality is, y’know, real’.”

“Oh right, like you’re one to talk.” And fuck it, Church is right. Why is he always right at the worst possible time?

“I’m not the one who avoids sleep like it’s got a personal vendetta against me.” Church squeezes his knee, and the exasperation is laced with concern. He leans in enough to rest his chin against Wash’s shoulder. Wash can feel his stubble scraping against his neck. The slightest amount of stress, and it’s shaving that’s the first thing to be forgotten. After that… well, there’s a reason why Wash’s bag is full of snack bars and a thermos.

“Look,” Church begins, “You sleep like shit. I don’t think there’s enough therapy in the whole goddam world for that-“ Wash snorts, “but just… just wake me up, okay? No reason you should suffer through it alone. God knows my sleep schedule is fucked. And hey, I could do with the entertainment.”

Wash finally looks at him, giving him a flat look that’s only a little ruined by the faint smile twitching at the corner of his lips. “You. Are an asshole.”

Church smiles, a smug expression that was resents finding attractive. “Yeah, but I’m your asshole.”

“That- that doesn’t even make sense!”

“Made you smile though,” Church says, looking even smugger. “I’d say that is a complete success of a mission.”

“Ugh, I hate you so much,” Wash says, and he slides a hand into Church’s hair to drag him into a kiss.

Church makes a noise that sends heat straight to Wash’s groin and he has his hands up beneath his t-shirt in half a second. They parked at the far end of the car park, beneath some overhanging trees so they should be fi-

The door opens. The car died beneath a sudden weight. Caboose leans through the gap between the seats. His expression is painfully earnest and that alone has Wash on high alert.

“Just so you know,” Caboose says solemnly, “the gate on the petting zoo was already open and it is no-one’s fault.”

Church and Wash share a look, and Church extricates himself from Wash’s shirt so he can look at Caboose.

“Caboose, there is no petting zoo here! It’s a service station! What the fuck did you do?!”

“Oh.” Caboose gives a thoughtful hum and sits back in his seat, picks up a drink and sucks enthusiastically on the straw.  
 Wash’s phone sat-nav gives an ominous beep. He opens up the app to read the notification. “Church…”

Church sighs and squeezes his eyes closed. “Just tell me.”

“The motorway just outside this service station is blocked,” Wash says. “A couple of hours delay because of… oh… two hundred sheep escaped from a trailer.”

“Caboose!”

Wash thinks he actually sees the moment when Church’s fragile self control snaps, and he has to lunge across the gap to stop him leaping into the back seat to murder Caboose. It’s going to be a long long drive.


End file.
